Chapter 16 #3
“It came back last summer. And by the looks of it, it’s even more aggressive than before.
Since the cancer is in her blood and this is her second time, her treatment options are limited.
But her doctors are hopeful that once she recovers from her third round of chemo, they’ll be able to move forward with a stem cell transplant.
After that, depending on how Elena responds, she may need one final consolidation treatment,” he explains, his voice softening under the weight of his sister-in-law’s cancer battle.
“She’s actually going to the doctor in the morning to see how her blood work looks and whether she’s strong enough for the transplant process.
That’s why she looks frail and gets tired so easily.
This last round of chemo was a bitch,” he adds with a crestfallen look in his eyes.
“I wish you could’ve met her when she was healthy.
If you thought dinner was something, you should see Elena at her best. She would never have let Sasha walk away from the table like that, that’s for sure. ”
“I wish I could have seen her like that, too. Maybe I’ll get to one day.”
“Maybe,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair away from my face that the wind tried to steal. “She really liked you.”
“I liked her too. She reminded me a bit of my sister, Annamaria.”
Kirill smiles, as if he understood me completely. “Let me guess, your sister is the moral compass of the family, too?”
My chest warms at how perfectly he gets it.
“That’s our Anna, all right. From the crib, she always seemed to know the difference between right and wrong, yet she never judges us when we toe the line in between.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say an unkind word to anyone.
You’d swear she isn’t even related to us, being as sweet as she is. ”
“You’re pretty sweet too, when you want to be.”
“Me? Sweet?” I laugh because the idea is absolutely ridiculous.
Still, the moment Kirill’s eyes drop to my lips, his thumb brushing along the bottom seam, my laughter dissolves in my throat.
“I remember you being very sweet… in all the right places,” he murmurs, licking his lips, his eyes darkening with hunger.
My core clenches as his Adam’s apple bobs, lust swimming in those black, shadowed eyes.
When he realizes his penetrating stare has left me tongue-tied, he steps back, grabs my hand, and continues our walk as if nothing happened.
My nerves are too frazzled to take in the scenery, the cold doing nothing to cool me down.
One look. One goddamn look, and I’m a puddle of need. And since Kirill hasn’t said another word, I know his mind is just as conflicted. Even after we circle the estate, my skin still feels like it might ignite if he so much as brushes against me.
“Can I walk you back to your room?” he asks once we cross the threshold of the house.
I nod, because there’s a vulnerable edge in his voice that makes me feel just as exposed.
We walk up the stairs slowly, our knuckles grazing with every step, stoking that simmering tension until it feels too big for either of us to contain. When Kirill stops me at my door, we just stare at each other—deep, hungry, helpless—until the moment snaps.
I fling myself into his arms at the same time he catches me, his mouth crushing against mine.
The kiss turns desperate and all-consuming, so wild and frantic that instead of reaching for the doorknob, he kicks the door open and shuts it behind us with a hard shove of his heel.
We’re all lips and breath and urgency, pressed close as he backs me against the wall, his body caging mine with a kind of reverence and need that steals the ground out from under me.
“Kill,” I breathe between kisses.
“God, I love it when you say my name like that,” he groans, his lips trailing heat along my neck.
It takes every ounce of concentration to keep from unraveling completely right there in his arms.
With my free hand, I unbutton Kirill’s shirt and then unbuckle his belt at the quickest pace I can muster, shoving my hand down his pants and boxers, sighing in delight when I find him hard as steel.
He hisses at my touch as I slowly stroke his length from base to tip.
He lifts his hooded eyes to me, staring at me much like his brother stared at his wife at dinner—with complete adoration and devotion.
The look in his eyes should unsettle me.
It should send me running to the hills. But instead, I just press my ankles to his back, needing him like I need air to breathe.
“Take me to bed, Kill. Now.”
Kirill moves instantly, turning us and lowering me onto the bed with surprising gentleness. Now, towering over me, his eyes scan my body as if he couldn’t make up his mind on where to start first. But I know the minute his libido cools when his eyes land on my sling and bandaged shoulder.
I lean forward and reach out my hand to cup his cheek. “I’m fine. I won’t break.”
He swallows dryly, as if not entirely convinced. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
“I almost lost you.”
“I’m right here.”
Kirill’s gaze flashes back to my eyes, something shifting in him. “I have to do this my way or not at all.”
Is he fucking for real? I’m dying over here!
Now is not the time to start an argument with him. I already know how stubborn he can get. So I concede, knowing that’s the only way we’ll move forward.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” He lifts a brow, as if I were setting a trap for him.
“Yes,” I coo, softly caressing his cheek with my hand. “We’ll do this your way.”
“Slow?”
“Yes, Kill. Slow. Now kiss me already.”
He doesn’t put up a fight and grabs my head in his hands, delivering an earthshattering kiss. By the time he’s done with me, I’m more than happy to follow his lead. Slow, fast, whatever he wants.
Kirill pulls me back onto my feet and takes off my sling, giving me a bit of my mobility back.
He throws it to the floor and then flips me around, causing me to gasp at how quickly he’s able to bend my body to his will.
He gently gathers my hair and moves it to my good shoulder, pulling the zipper of my dress next and kissing my spine in time with its slow descent.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he confesses in my ear.
My lips find his as I turn to face him again.
This time our kiss is slow and languid, as if he wanted to memorize every nook and corner of my mouth, the velvet glide of my tongue against his.
As the kiss deepens, he swiftly pulls off his shirt, drops his pants to the floor, and kicks his shoes away.
I smile into his mouth as I step out of my own heels, practically purring at the feel of his skin pressing against mine.
Kirill’s hands grip my waist and then gently guide me back onto the bed, hovering over me, his heat scorching my skin. He breaks our kiss only to pepper sweet kisses all along my body, every inch of me now marked and claimed by his mouth.
I raise my legs to trap him in my thighs once he makes his way up again to my mouth, unable to keep himself from kissing me for more than a few moments.
I bite into his lip at the feel of his hard cock now perfectly placed between my thighs.
As his lips roam and his hands travel, memorizing every curve of my body, the way his cock rubs against my pussy, sliding up and down my soaked slit, has me panting for breath.
He’s so close. So close to where I need him most. And yet, he’s too enraptured with kissing every little inch of me to see the misery I’m in.
“Kill,” a startled moan leaves me, needy and restless, when his girth rubs against my clit in the most delicious and unbearable of ways.
Kirill’s eyes land on mine, finally reading the pain he’s left me to endure in this slow torture of his.
Unable to see me in such agony, he angles the crown of his cock to my opening and, in one deep thrust, shatters me completely.
My nails sink into his back as he curses me with each and every languid stroke.
“I asked for one thing. One fucking thing. And you couldn’t even give me that,” he growls, sounding pissed that he’s fucking me.
Still, I refuse to apologize since this is exactly what I wanted for longer than I am willing to admit.
Kirill mumbles something in Russian, broken curses as he lets himself get lost in our new dance.
I close my eyes and just let myself give way to the rhythm of our bodies, how they fit perfectly with one another, almost as if we were made for each other.
His hands continue to roam my body as his cock keeps punishing me in the best way imaginable.
Little helpless sobs leave my mouth as I run my nails up and down his back, my core clenching with the way he hits the deepest darkest parts of me.
It all feels like it’s too much and still not enough.
“What is it, duscha moya? What do you need?” he asks, his voice like gravel.
“You… all I need is you,” I hear myself say, but that can’t be me. I’d never say something so sappy.
Still, his eyes on me darken to a black I’ve never seen before as his lips fall back on mine, gentle and still dominant in a way that should be illegal.
No wonder his nickname is Kill. Because that’s what he’s doing to me.
Slowly. Sweetly. One lingering kiss at a time.
All too soon do I feel my body begin to quiver under him, my legs locking him in place, imprisoning him to me.
“You fucking do my head in,” he growls, “but this… this is everything.”
I feel my lips curve into a wanton smile, and no matter how hard I try to keep myself in check, I’m no match for the way he’s making me feel.
When Kirill’s lips find mine once again, devouring me as if his life depended on it, I combust, letting go of the reins and giving in to the pleasure that washes the room in a soft, golden blur.
He thrusts inside me three more times to ensure my high reaches its limits before he falls apart in my arms, following his bliss right on after me.
And when all is said and done, he falls on my chest, holds me tight, as if he never wanted to let me go.
To my surprise, I hold him just as fiercely, needing his weight to anchor me to the moment, before it all disappears on us and we’re forced to be rivals once more. Forced to pretend that loving each other this way didn’t feel like the most natural thing in the world.
That it didn’t feel like it’s meant to be.
That it’s not fucking terrifying.